


Black and Blue

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, drink induced memory loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after can be more interesting than the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mysteriousaliwz (MysteriousAliWays)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousAliWays/gifts).



> Written for the lovely mysteriousaliwz who gave the prompt “black pepper”. 
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2010.

Ryan stretched his arms over his head, the muscles of his back protesting at the movement. His shoulders ached and there was a cut running down his right arm that would take a little time to heal. But he was alive which was the main thing. He dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders.

“Is that for my benefit?” a voice from the bed asked.

Ryan smirked and looked over his shoulder. “Don't flatter yourself.”

There was a delighted laugh and then Stephen squirrelled himself even deeper under the covers. It had been raining for nearly two days straight and Stephen had been the one to track the dinosaur that had attacked Ryan out in it, giving up on keeping warm and just letting himself get soaked through. Which explained why he was trying to keep warm, but not why he was in Ryan's bed in the first place.

He wanted to ask how they had wound up in bed together and whether they'd done anything more than just sleep – none of Ryan's aches seemed suspicious, but his whole body felt like one giant bruise so that wasn't really saying much.

“I'm never drinking again,” Stephen said, voice muffled by his pillow.

“Hmm,” Ryan agreed, memories starting to filter back. They'd gone out with the other soldiers to celebrate a job well done. Someone, Becker maybe, had dropped them back at Ryan's, though he was a little fuzzy on why Stephen hadn't just gone back to his own flat.

“Could you maybe think a little quieter?” Stephen asked. “Some of us are trying to die over here.”

Ryan laughed. “I'm going to make breakfast. You want something?”

Stephen groaned theatrically. “Maybe?” he added after a moment. Ryan tried to hide his smile. Now really wasn’t the time to think of Stephen as adorable. He'd never live it down.

“Full English it is,” Ryan agreed. He grabbed some sweatpants and padded, barefoot, down the stairs and into his kitchen. Along the way he spotted their jackets tangled together on the floor, where they had apparently been thrown. Not all together a promising sign.

Stephen's shoes he found by the front door. His own kicked halfway into the entrance to the kitchen. No underwear though. He'd been wearing his when he woke up, though he couldn't swear to it that Stephen had been wearing his own.

“Curious and curiouser,” he muttered under his breath.

He started moving pots and pans around, quietly for the sake of Stephen's head, and his own he had to admit. Although he clearly wasn't suffering as much as Stephen was, there was still a slight ache behind his eyes that told its own story.

Eggs, bacon, sausages were soon laid out, ready to be cooked. He rooted around for the teabags and made a mental note to buy some more later. He made a cup of tea for himself and Stephen first and took it up to the other man.

“Here,” Ryan said, placing the cup on the table by Stephen's head. “Don't knock it into the bed.”

“Hmm,” Stephen said with a wave. “Thanks.”

Ryan took a moment to pause in the doorway on his way out and stare at Stephen's back. The tan was fading, but Stephen still looked delectable.

“Bad idea,” Ryan muttered under his breath. “Really, really bad idea.”

As he started cooking he listed to himself all the reasons why a relationship between himself and Stephen would never work. Topping the list was the awkwardness if, no, _when_ , they broke up and had to continue working together. Then there was the fear he, or Stephen, might do something stupid if the other was in danger. The jibes of his men and comments from the others on the team came in a close third.

He took a sip of his tea, now gone cold, and tried to block out the reactions of an old school friend who he'd confided in about being gay. To say it had not gone well would have been a massive understatement.

Absently Ryan plated up and then took out the pepper to season the eggs. The next thing he knew the lid had fallen off and heaps of peppercorn covered the food, the plates and half the counter and floor. He stared, dumbstruck, at the mess.

“Back to the drawing board, then?” Stephen asked. Ryan startled and looked up to see Stephen lounging in the doorway to the kitchen, looking a little more like his usual self. He'd put on his shirt from yesterday, though he hadn't done up the buttons, and was wearing black boxer shorts.

“I don't think there's really anything else in,” Ryan said apologetically, turning back to stare at the mess of what had been a perfectly decent looking meal. “I don't get a lot of chance to go shopping.”

“I know the feeling,” Stephen replied. Ryan could hear the smile in Stephen's voice and looked up again, properly taking in the other man. It was obvious that he was trying very hard not to laugh.

Ryan shook his head. “Go ahead, you can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

Stephen did laugh then. “If I didn't know better I'd say you were pouting.”

“I don't pout,” Ryan replied, but Stephen's laughter, so rarely heard, was infectious and he couldn't help himself from joining in.

“Why don't we call for a pizza or something instead?” Stephen suggested. He nodded towards the kitchen clock. “It's practically lunch time anyway.”

Ryan smiled and went to fetch the phone from the hallway. “Good idea. Any requests?”

Stephen shrugged. “I'm easy.”

Ryan was very glad his face was turned away from Stephen at that moment as all sorts of delicious ideas popped into his head.

“In fact,” Stephen said, suddenly _right there_ behind Ryan, “don't you think it would be better if we worked up an appetite?”

Ryan put down the phone on the hall table and turned around, very slowly, as if he were afraid that any sudden movement would send Stephen hurtling away. “An appetite?” he repeated, then flushed at the inanity.

“Yes,” said Stephen, smiling softly, “an appetite.”

Not waiting for Ryan to form a more coherent reply he leaned forward and pulled Ryan into a kiss. It was surprisingly chaste, as Stephen licked at Ryan's lips and applied just the right amount of pressure to send sparks straight to Ryan's cock.

Stephen pulled back and looked at Ryan expectantly. Ryan swallowed hard. Now or never.

“I think that's the best idea you've ever had,” Ryan finally said. Then he took Stephen's hand and started to drag him back towards the bedroom. He'd deal with the fallout later.

Much later.


End file.
